embrace.

Suicide.

Blood heats, then begins to boil.
Electric flows with the clock's ever toil.
Chocking back screams,
Liquid pouring at the seams.
Lying in crimson this time,
And still see the shine.
Wrists are bloody and gory,
The dripping itself telling a story.
Bubbles of red dot the lips,
Not matching the blue of the fingertips.
A smile curved at the mouth,
The twisted visage oh-so foul.
Never looked so at peace before,
So the knife twists for even more.
The grating of the knife against bone,
Didn't even seem to be known.
Every second collecting dust,
Doesn't seem to diminish death's lust.
Then flesh begins to burn,
Insides slowly rot and turn.
You've set me up to fail this time,
And now, death's embrace is mine.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

No, I'm not suicidal.

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